


Fiddle About

by JaeNunyah



Category: The Who
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21715270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaeNunyah/pseuds/JaeNunyah
Summary: The Pornographic Adventures Of Moon The Loon!
Kudos: 7





	1. Monkey Business

**Author's Note:**

> Have to kill Keefy off soon in my other arcs, so felt compelled to start a salacious AU where he lives forever and gets to become a proper...improper...Dirty Old Man alongside his bandmates. Opening this Thing up to suggestion, since Moonie was such a well-known freak that I'm willing to take him ANYWHERE the fans might enjoy. There will be crossovers, but I'll not add other characters to the tags until they appear.

"There's gonna come a day when I have to smack him." Roger rakes hands through golden curls as he paces the carpet in front of chaise where Pete regally reclines. "I've said 'no' every NICE way I know, but he just keeps pushing..."

"In my experience, Keefy does far more PULLING than PUSHING. He asks nicely, but, I suppose you've a point. Doesn't always take 'no' for an answer, does he?" Pete stretches languidly, taking toke from smoldering spliff before offering it out to distressed Daltrey. 

Accepting and inhaling, Roger holds the smoke and his tongue while considering how to answer as Pete casually continues.

"I've never smacked him. I just walk away."

"John doesn't." Roger confides, sure Pete already knows this and dying to learn what he thinks about it.

Pete sighs melodramatically. "Oh, dear. Did you walk in on something?"

"Yeah. What're we gonna do?"

"I don't see why we have to do anything."

"That kind of crazy shit could sink us. He's a great drummer, but I'm worried he might be a lunatic..." Roger's sigh is sincere "...a liability, like."

"If we could be said to have a weak link, it's obviously YOU, not Keith." Pete snaps "Grow the fuck up. Learn to handle and MIND your own business."

Roger's anger flares "Oh, sounds like YOU get down with him, too. Do you?" As last words leave his lips, he realizes he doesn't want the answer.

"On my own terms." Pete is amused to behold Roger blushing and graciously withholds further filthy details, taking perverse pride in his restraint. [Messing with that little mind is like shooting fish in a barrel. Keefy WILL have his wicked way, likely soon. What's uncertain is whether aforementioned mind will be blown or broadened.] "Whether you elect to fluff or rebuff is ENTIRELY up to you, but I'll tell you something for nothing..." He drills Daltrey with unforgiving gaze. "If you can't stand the heat, get out of my fucking kitchen."

"Fucking in a kitchen's unsanitary, mate." Roger quips weakly.

"Works up an appetite...adds savory spice. Don't knock it 'til you try it."

"I WON'T." Roger passionately declares, adding "I'm not sure a band of bloody perverts is the right place for me."

"Well, that's your choice, too. Time will tell..."

* * * * *

"Hello...?" [High heels, sexy legs in fishnet stockings, blonde curls obscuring features...] Roger addresses unfamiliar figure wearing what appears to be full-on French Maid costume, wondering if Pete's contracted with some kinky cleaning service.

"How d'you do, Sir?" Moonie simpers, cocking a hip and flicking feather duster as he purses rouged lips in Roger's astonished face, fluttering heavily mascaraed eyelashes. "So happy to see the foxy frontman come home, and would LOVE to offer some special service."

"What the FUCK is wrong with you, Keith?" Roger blurts "What if I hadn't been alone?"

"But you ARE." Moonie sashays seductively into reach and thrusts out obviously stuffed bosom. "WE are, now. Call me 'Katy', and I'll be your humble serving wench." He sinks seductively to his knees and nuzzles head beneath Roger's unresisting hand. "Do you like my hair? I had it styled JUST like yours because you look SO fine tossing it around on stage."

Roger squirms uncomfortably but entwines fingers into Keith's wig, wondering whether he wants to yank it off. [Is that what my hair looks like? He IS sexy in drag, goddammit, and REAL women aren't often half so enticingly eager and simply sweet. No...] "Keith..."

"Katy." Keith insists, sliding eager fingers up to fondle burgeoning erection through tight, white trousers. "You'll let me if you can think about a girl, won't you?"

"No..." Roger murmurs, but doesn't pull away as Keith tugs down his zipper "I'm not..." [Not interested? Not excited? Both would be lies. Not gay? Does that really matter? Neither are Pete and John. Keith's like a force of nature...overwhelming...]

"That's okay." Moonie assures "You don't have to do anything but enjoy..." He draws out Roger's stiffened prick and wraps his lips around it.

"Ohhh, Katy..." Roger groans, recollecting how he's admitted to 'servant girl' fantasies and knowing that's been Keith's angle, but now unable to resist slick seduction. "Yes, suck your master's cock."

A sudden wet, crunching noise arrests Roger's regard but in no way interrupts Moonie's ministrations. Pete lounges against the arched entryway, eating an apple and smirking to observe salacious display.

"Who says he WON'T?" Pete remarks with his mouth full before swallowing to shoot "LIAR."


	2. Blood Brothers?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith enjoys quality time with a very special lady.

"What's your real name?" Keith beseeches winsomely, drawing her hand down through froth of bubbles along slick skin to wrap his own fingers around and encourage exploration of engorgement. "Y'see, I've had the ACTUAL Queen, and it might be treason to call another lady what Her Majesty likes to hear in bed."

Queenie laughs lightly while fondling firmly. [He's insatiable. Haven't been with a man this age since...well, since I was young, myself.] Wicked romp in luxury suite with wild, wanton rock star has been a deliciously decadent diversion from the reason she'd attended evening show, and still can't quite believe it's happening. [Pretty hard evidence, though. I might be sore tomorrow.] "Oh, go on with you." She playfully flicks froth with free hand. "I don't believe you've ever shagged Her Nibs, although prob'ly not for lack of trying, you bad boy, and I've been 'Queenie' since I was a girl. It's what my friends call me."

"We're friends now, for sure, aren't we, Missus?" Moonie grins ingratiatingly to saucily suggest "I bet you were a very naughty girl."

"Maybe..." Queenie allows, returning suggestive smile "...but THIS might be the naughtiest thing I've ever done." Earlier sweaty tangle had led them both to the bath, and although she's loving this big tub it seems a return to the bed is well in hand. Leaning forward to briefly flicker her tongue against Keith's teasingly waggling one, she warns "Don't stick it out unless you're going to use it." Eyeing tongue and tumescence in turn, she offers "Either one."

"Ooh, you're gonna get both." Keith promises, standing up and pulling her along, soapy water streaming from both nude forms as they step out of the bathtub. "Again...and maybe AGAIN after THAT. Which do you want first?"

Queenie can't help but remark as they proceed, naked and dripping, from tile to carpet "Mister Moon, your dirty reputation precedes you, but I must say you clean up VERY nicely, and have been MOST considerately attentive."

"Would'ja mind spreading that around?" Keith implores, seemingly sincere "I wind up with hellcat kittens because the respectable, mature ladies like you are too scared of me." He tips her backward onto appropriately queen-sized mattress and kneels on the floor between parted thighs before sharing "They always go for Roger or Pete."

"I could go for Pete." Queenie admits "He's had those bold, clever ways...and gorgeous eyes...since he was a lad. Roger seems a bit thick, though...not much fun there, I daresay."

"He's long enough, but not too thick." Keith giggles insinuatingly, and Queenie is sure he knows of what he speaks. "Likes his women dumb, though. Fine piece like you'd be wasted on him, but I can put in a good word for you with Pete, if y'want?"

"Don't you DARE." Queenie scolds, twining fingers into Moonie's wet hair to pull his face down where she wants it. "I've got my hands full with YOU."

*******

John discerns sounds of passion as he unlocks the door, deducing they're genuinely feminine and not Keith's occasionally affected falsetto. [Hmmm. Won't be the first time he's snared us one to share...or that he's started without me.] Ambling into the room, hand strays toward belt buckle as first twinges of erection stir to behold unclothed forms in extremely compromising position, unaware of his presence until he speaks.

"Hey, Keith, who's your friend?"

Queenie sits up in shock to hear unexpected voice as Keith turns from his amorous activity to lick slick lips, answering "You, are, of course, but I betcha don't want in on this one...or do you?"

"Mum?!" John cries in anguished horror, finding the only words leaping to mind are ones she has said to him. "You don't know where that's BEEN!"

Haunting the back of Queenie's mind since Keith had peeled off her dress has been the concern that this might get back to John. She hadn't expected discovery so soon, but is nonetheless determined to tough it out. [They're hot celebrities, after all, living the mad, modern life. You kids ain't the only ones with things hangin' out, y'know.] Making no attempt to cover herself, feeling shame but damned if she'll show it, Queenie sternly admonishes "Johnny! I raised you better than to barge into an occupied bedroom without knocking."

John will never be able to unsee this, and isn't even sure how to process it, uttering only an indignantly distraught "It's MY room!"

Queenie hadn't known that, and turns scolding stare upon her puckish paramour.

"Oops." Keith doesn't sound sorry at all as he apologizes. "My mistake. Must've grabbed the wrong key."

John turns to depart hastily without another word, uncharacteristically rattled and reeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next "The Quiet One" will feature John sharing this shocking horrorshow with Pete, and seeking advice.


	3. Sexual Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mother's work is never done...

[This might get sticky. A mother's work is never done...]

Pete snickers softly in the hallway, aware Keith is sulking solitarily. Ox and Monkey had flaked off together immediately after their set, but not before exchange of laden glances (Monkey's angrily accusing, John's worriedly wounded) had clearly communicated his own awareness of the problem and intent to fix it. Which he WILL, whatever it takes...

"Keefy..." he offers familial familiarity along with secret knock to show he's alone, too. "...let me in."

"Bugger off!" is snarled through the door. "Don't even THINK of using your key, or I'll blow this place sky-high!"

"You haven't a speck of black powder in there." [Although possibly several grams of the white variety.] Pete calmly calls Keith's bluff.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." Unlocking the door, Pete roughly kicks it open to behold desultory drummer draped facedown across big bed. "I also know you're off your fucking game and starting to turn into an embarrassment. What I DON'T know is WHY."

Keith rolls over onto his back and spreads arms in crucifixion pose. "Come to sack me? Nasty nutter can't keep up, so he's out? Well, see if I care. Goodbye and good fucking luck."

"Keefy, no drummer could EVER keep up with you." Pete fondly flatters "You play the very beats of my heart, so tell me RIGHT NOW what's weighing upon yours. We love you, and would never sack you."

"John doesn't love me anymore." Keith sighs "He's been avoiding me..."

"Well, you DID fuck his mother."

"I did NOT!"

Pete is uncharacteristically perplexed. "You DIDN'T? He's certainly under the impression that you did, and he's not a man who jumps to conclusions."

" 'Fuck' is such a rude word for it. We made sweet love. I was a perfect gentleman. She even said so." Keith sits up with satisfied smile.

Pete bursts into sudden, unbidden laughter. "Have you told HIM that?"

"I just SAID he won't let me tell him ANYTHING." pouts Keith, suddenly shifting to suspicion "Wait a minute...how do YOU know? You said he never discusses...sex stuff...with you." Glower transforms into gleeful grin "Oh, did SHE share?"

"I wish." Emerges as naked admission. "I barked up THAT tree as a green pup. Thank God she turned me down, or I might've made a complete fool of myself." Pete approaches the bed and gazes curiously down into Keith's upturned eyes. "How did you manage to entice her?"

"Ooh, what's it worth to you?" Keith taunts "I'll share...if you will." He scoots to edge of the bed then stands up directly in front of Pete, hands slipping up and around to caress nape of neck, drawing head downward to intimately inquire "Remember what I made you do when you wanted the dirty details about me-n-John?" he breathes hotly into Pete's ear "Wanna do it again?"

Pete remembers... [Took all day to learn everything I wanted...learned some things I hadn't expected about myself.] "You didn't MAKE me do anything." he quibbles "I CHOSE to do it out of curiosity, and I'll do it again if you'll tell me about Queenie." He pushes Keith back down onto the mattress and pounces atop before sliding south to kiss exposed skin between hem of shirt and waistband of trousers, murmuring against warm flesh "But I'm only gonna do it ONCE this time."

"You KNOW once isn't gonna be enough." Keith groans "For either of us."

"What kind of underwear did she have?" Pete begins interrogation as he strokes Keith's erection. "Stockings?"

"Pantyhose." Keith utters the word like a vile curse "Rolled 'em off quick to get at knickers." He gasps beneath Pete's touch. "THOSE were nice...black silk...lace-trimmed."

"What about HER trim? Sparse or bushy? How did she smell?" Memory of Queenie's lilac perfume contrasts sharply with Moonie's response as Pete unbuttons his flies to inspect what he prepares to imbibe.

"People say 'fish' like it's a bad thing, but I sure savor a pretty piece of prime raw salmon and it was kinda like that." Keith writhes, jutting against Pete's prominent nose. "What do I smell like?"

"At the moment....?" Pete takes a deep, theatrical sniff. "Frustration." He is quite certain Keith has fiddled about with no one for more than a week, which is long indeed for lusty lad. "Missing John too much to play around elsewhere? You're also missing your marks, and he can see why but can't talk about it."

"Yes..." moans Keith "Pretty please, Pete, how do I make him love me again?"

"He still loves you." Pete promises, fingers wrapping Keith's turgid tool. "He just needs some space. I'll take care of you today, but YOU must appease affronted OX, and soon."

"I know..." Keith gasps as Pete slips parted lips around the swollen tip of his prick. "...I love you, too."

Pete feels the love, and that's the real reason he's doing this. [Sexual healing keeps Keefy in tune...] Taking cock deep into his mouth, he slides a hand to shove down the cloth of Keith's garments, sliding it back up along one newly-bared thigh to ripple fingers against tender flesh, feeling beloved bandmate quiver beneath him.

"JOHN!" Keith's cry echoes in Pete's ears as ejaculate floods his mouth, and he can't help but wonder who's better at it. He spits into cupped fingers and flicks sticky handful onto carpet before sliding his body against Keith's quaking form to draw them close together.

[Had he said MY name, perhaps I would have swallowed.]

Brilliant blue eyes blaze into becalmed brown ones for several blissful beats.

"Thanks, Mum." Keith ducks gratefully to nuzzle against Pete's neck while wrapping arms around stalwart shoulders. "I promise I'll make up with him...and I'll tell you all about it."

"You better." Pete sternly decrees.

"You bet." Moonie merrily agrees.


	4. How Many Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith makes up with John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helps to know 1963 hit "Hey There Lonely Boy" by Ruby And The Romantics, and also "How Many Friends" from THE WHO BY NUMBERS. John doesn't see any action in "The Quiet One", since I committed to keeping that one a "Gen" arc, so was fun to finally...ahem...stick him into some porn.

"Hey there, Lonely Boy." Keith sings, sitting up in bed, flipping aside covers to reveal he's been waiting naked. Arching bared body as enticingly as he lilts lovelorn lyric, he presents both as inviting inquiry. "Lonely boy?"

John has heard soulful song before, but can't name the group whose words waft simultaneously from the radio and from wicked winsome lips. One of those Motown ensembles he and Pete disparage as 'Prettygirl And The Four Fops' but that Keith adores, often prompting Pete's proclamation of intent to outsource Little Loon's high harmony into bidding war between The Beatles and The Beach Boys. [Both could afford him, but neither could handle him...probably wouldn't even WANT him...but I do, and he knows it.]

"You seem so lost each time you pass my way..." Keith stands to undulate, unclad and unconstrained, posing provocatively before him with beseeching brown eyes welling woefully. "...oh, how I long to take your hand..." he suits words to action, enfolding unresisting fingers into his own as John finds himself singing the next words, which he's somewhat surprised to know.

"...and say don't cry, I'll kiss your tears away..." As Ox also echoes lyrics with response, touching gentle lips to warm wetness upon pale cheek, Keith throws arms around him in desperate clutch, swallowing sob to sing.

"...but once you're in my arms you'll see no one can kiss your lips the way I will..." Keith turns up pleading, passionate visage, and John accepts that simple truth as he offers impassioned proof. Mouths merge and tongues entwine briefly before John pulls his face away but presses his body closer.

"Let me make your broken heart like new..." Hands slide down concavity of spine to caress convexity of buttock as he stiffens in his jeans to feel Keith's rampant erection against him. "...Lonely Boy..." 

"Lonely Boy..." Keith entreats eagerly "...don't you know this lonely girl loves you?"

As the song fades out, John quietly declares "I love you, Mister Moon. I'm so sorry you ever thought I'd stopped."

"No, I'M sorry." Keith insists, reaching to deftly unbuckle John's belt. "Truly DIDN'T know it was your room, but shouldn't have done it, anyway." he leans in for another quick kiss, abjectly apologizing "Just flirted for fun, but when she smiled back I saw YOUR face in hers and...well..."

John remembers (and is currently within in the literal grip of) how one thing can so heatedly, heedlessly lead to another with irrepressible Loon. He supposes he certainly can't blame his mother, and that holding a grudge against Keith has engendered nothing but fraught frustration for both of them. [Thought Pete would be more her type, and had prepared for THAT eventual eventuality, but would never have SEEN it, nor would Pete have ever mentioned...] "You didn't talk about...me...did you?"

"Course not." Keith swears, solemn sincerity making next words incongruously hilarious "That would've been weird, wouldn't it?"

"YOU'RE weird." John laughs, mirth tinged with worry as he allows Keith to pull him toward the bed. "Getting weirder all the time, it seems, and I never know WHAT you might do...or how much...with who..."

"Ooh, jealous?" Moonie teases and squeezes simultaneously. "He buys me a brandy, or could it be he's really just after my ass?" 

"No." Longing to let deliciously deviant drummer drag him to drown in decadent delight as he so often has before, John is compelled to articulate anxiety, however tersely. "Scared."

"Afraid I'll let slip about us?" Keith whispers against Ox's throat, sensation stirring strongly. "It's a plain fact, we talk so much shit behind each other's backs."

"Keith..." John growls, taking loony lover's hair in one hand, tilting troubled face back up to meet anguished gaze. "I'm scared you're gonna die. Nobody can ever tie you down, but if YOU don't rope it in there'll come a day you won't wake up."

"That day comes to every man." Keith insouciantly intones, but John's having none of it.

"You know what I mean. Pete and even Roger can see it, too."

"Pete said I'm an embarrassment." Moonie abashedly admits, asking "Are YOU embarrassed of me?"

"Lately, yes." John acknowledges, softening harsh critique with tender touch. "We can defend, deny, or even embrace how fucking mad you act as long as you WORK, but you haven't been keeping up, and it gets harder and harder to make excuses."

"Gets harder and harder, all right." Keith tries a joke along with a stroke, but falters at attempt to lift John's spirts and lower his trousers, mournful melancholy sorrow swimming within expression to ask "Is that why you quit wearing my ring?"

Insidious prickle looms in his own eyes as John fishes beneath collar to withdraw silver chain threaded through titanium band, which he exhibits with earnest avowal. "I still wear it, but I'm not sure you still MEAN it, so I took it off my finger."

"You think I don't love you?" Keith begins to weep. "John, I'll do anything to prove I do." He falls onto naked knees, clasping Ox's denim-clad ones. "Just tell me what you want, and you can have it."

John cannot stand before such sweetly guileless grovel. Sinking onto carpet beside Keith, fingers at fondest friend's eye level, he abruptly jerks the chain from around his neck and shakes severed links into loose slither, forcing freed band into selfsame hand which had bestowed it upon him so long ago. "When you gave me this, you said 'Forever', but now you're drifting away. Come back to us...to me." He presses hot, dry lips fervently against Moonie's moist ones in pauses between words "Work with me...play with me...stay with me...and we'll be together forever." 

"Do you love me?" Keith fiercely tugs apart John's shirt and drags him down between parted thighs amidst the petite percussion of popping buttons. "Want me?"

"Yes to both." [Ever since the first time...]

"Take me as I am."

John is eager to oblige, at last given over to overwhelming sense of freedom Keith inspires. [Seduces so sweetly, yet tempered toughness feels no pain and hardcore honesty knows no fear.] "How many friends have I really got?" emerges in baritone moan as lovers tightly reunite.

"Can count 'em on one hand." Keith cries, sharp nails digging into Ox's broad, bared back.


	5. Johnny Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you remember our first time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lyric-heavy one. Helps to know 1962 hit "Johnny Angel", sung most notably by Shelly Fabras but also by about a dozen other lovely ladies.

"Will you wear my ring again?" Keith sweetly implores, raising right hand to show that titanium token has resided within sweaty palm during entirety of torrid entanglement. "I've been so sad since you took it off."

"You're not still sad now, are you?" John quietly inquires, raising to first meet loony lover's lips with a kiss then his anxious expression with a serene smile. "After that?"

" '...that.' " Keith returns the grin, although countenance remains worried "...was wonderful, but I'm scared you don't love me like you used to." He slaps himself ruefully upon portly paunch. "I've gotten so fat."

"You'll always be the same impish gingerbread boy who turned up sparkling, seductive chocolate-drop eyes at stage's edge the night we met." John promises "Even when you're old and grey." He can't help but try another warning, praying to be heard and heeded this time. "I want you to get there...with me...but you're out of control, and I can't wear your ring to your funeral...which is coming soon, the way you're going."

"You could control me..." Keith insinuatingly invites "...if you really wanted."

John knows better. "No, I couldn't." [Maybe Pete could, but he doesn't really want to. Perhaps between us (better not use THOSE words around either ONE of them) we might manage to save Our Boy.] "All I can do is love you and work with you. Can see..." fond fingers flow along fevered flesh "...can feel you still love me, but can't tell if you even care about our work anymore..." soft stroke precedes solemn statement. "...and that has to come first."

"I understand, John." Moonie swears "I'll turn things around, I promise." Hand holding the ring twists into Ox's much larger one. "Please take it back. You don't have to wear it until you see a difference, but you WILL." He lavishes kisses and apologetic avowals simultaneously, barely breathing between winsome words. "Don't want you...any of you...to be embarrassed of me. I'm sorry...been such a bad boy...I'll be better...make you proud of me again."

John can't bear the thought of Keith crying, which it sounds like he might start doing any second. "Look, Mister Moon." he urges, commanding Keith's attention as he slips the ring onto right forefinger, the selfsame digit upon which tender token had been bestowed years ago. "It's back on, but that means YOU have to be, okay?"

"Oh-KAY!" Keith crows, wriggling happily against Ox's warm form. "Wanna do it again to celebrate?"

"Maybe we should actually get into bed first." John suggests, marveling at Moonie's irresistible insatiability. [He's always had a knack for tripping me then beating me to the floor...part of what I love so much about him.] "I need a smoke."

"Me, too." Keith bounces up and pounces in headlong nude sprawl across the bed, reaching to snatch pack of cigarettes from atop nearby nightstand, extracting two and rolling back over to waggle more than tobacco in John's direction. "C'mere and light us up, Lover."

Shucking off the ruins of his shirt, Ox untangles trousers from around his ankles, fishing into pocket for Zippo before kicking distressed denim away and rising just as naked to lean over lascivious Loon, who sticks one fag into his own mouth before popping the other between John's lips. Flame blooms as flint is struck, and each inclines closer to share it, inhaling together then drawing slightly apart as Keith flops down on his back and John stretches out in similar posture beside him, both exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. 

"Remember our first time?" Moonie muses, snuggling closer.

"How could I forget?" John chuckles "You blew my mind."

"That's not all I blew..." reminds Keith with a giggle. "Aced the audition, yeah?"

"Didn't know what hit me...still don't sometimes." John acknowledges, recollecting...

[I'd been noodling around in notebook, thinking how Pete had deemed my few fledgling attempts at composition 'silly, but catchy' and wondering if there could be anything useable in current scribbles, when the door had been flung open in grandiose gesture. Expecting to see Pete, it had been a bit surprising to behold cute little drummer acting like he owned a place which hadn't even agreed to accept him yet.

"Ooh, you don't flip the latch!" Keith proclaimed perniciously "What if you'd been indecent? I might have seen EVERYTHING."

"Decent people don't barge into an occupied bedroom without knocking." I snapped, realizing I was quoting my mother, and determined my next words would be something I'd NEVER heard her say. "Fuck off."

"Now THAT's no way to conduct an interview." He smiled, sashaying toward me. "Here I thought YOU were the nice one, too."

Funny, that. So many others at first took me for the mean one coz I don't fake-laugh or pretend to care like Roger and Pete. Couldn't fathom what to make of his jaunty insistence, even less of flirtatious manner, but was damn well certain we'd made no appointment. Hadn't even known he'd stuck around after disappearing with Pete, earlier.

"What d'you mean, 'interview'?" Glowering rise from desk chair had been intent to intimidate, but he only sidled closer, and I was uncomfortably reminded how he'd squirmed playfully against me while cramped tightly into the van on the long ride here.

"Well, I just got finished being tied up and raped by the Big Brain, so I thought I'd come seek some sympathy from the Big Balls." He fluttered eyelashes to add "Maybe the Big Heart, too, unless I'm very much mistaken."

"Pete did WHAT?!" blurted out before I caught on, earning an unaffected titter which struck me as downright adorable.

"Oh, not LITERALLY." Keith fawned, sounding almost disappointed. "He just probed with hard...questions and bound me to him...with promises. He wants me...in the band, but doesn't know how you feel." Before I could (want to) make a move to stop him, he'd taken my left hand in both of his to declare "I didn't tell him how you felt...me up...in the dark backseat, but I want your arms around me again."

"Hey, now..." affronted, I jerked away, stammering "I didn't... That was only to keep you from crashing into the gear on tight turns."

"Were you more worried about ME getting hurt or the kit?" Steeping right up to press his chest against mine, I thought he meant to kiss me, and he smirked as I backed off two paces while he advanced one. "I'm built for the rough-and-tumble. I think you held me because you liked it."

Damn his saucy soul, I HAD liked it. He'd been a lively, lissome handful. "Those drums aren't yours." I admonished.

"This drummer can be yours. I'm WAY better than the one you've got. How attached are you to...what-his-name...Danny?"

"Dougie." Keith's nearness had become intoxicating, and as I began to reach for him was suddenly halted with sharp suspicion. "What the hell is going on? Did Pete put you up to this?"

"He didn't tell ME how it's gonna be..." this time I was sure his lips were aimed for mine, and I extended stiff arm to hold him off. He leaned heavily into my splayed fingers, heartbeat thudding beneath my palm, insisting "...I told HIM."

"Yeah, RIGHT." I scoffed. "I'm not buying THAT, little liar."

"Search my EYES and tell me I'm lying." Keith's simple sincerity seemed to draw me in, and I deeply delved his lusciously lustful, limpidly loopy, utterly lovely look to behold the unmistakable gleam of truth.

"What did you tell him?" was all I could manage to ask while maintaining resolve.

"Said you need my engine to really take off. Said I can take ANYTHING on the clock but don't try to boss me on my own time. Said I pull a LOT of dirty birds..." Keith dropped salacious wink "...and don't mind sharing when times is lean, y'know. Pete dug all that, mate, then he asked about my hidden talents...but you haven't. What can I show you?"

'Everything' nearly leapt from my lips, but what actually emerged was "Can you sing?"

Gaze flicked down to my fingers against his breast before tone shifted to swoony simper. "Unhand me, you brute, and I can sing like a lady."

How on earth was he doing this? Why was I letting little lunatic literally move me so? He pushed me backward until knees buckled against the chair, and he began to sing as I sat down.

"Johnny Angel, how I love him. He's got something that I can't resist..." Keith warbled "...but he doesn't even know that I exist."

Wow, he wasn't kidding. Soulfully sweet soprano... fucking cornball song choice, though. What did he sing for Pete?

"Johnny Angel, how I want him. Oh, I tingle when he passes by. Ev'ry time he says hello my heart begins to fly."

Suddenly mine did, too, as Keith sank to the floor before me, continuing to sing as he dropped heated hands onto my thighs. Had vague thoughts I somehow should strive to rebuff him but felt no desire to do so, caught in mad magnetism and glorying in gorgeous voice.

"I'm in heaven. I get carried away. I dream of him and me, and how it's gonna be..." 

Was I being carried away? How WAS it gonna be, anyway...anyhow...anywhere? 

"Other fellas call me out for a date..." crooned Keith, and before I quite knew how, trousers were undone and he'd slipped out my prick with insidiously gentle grip, bending to sing in mockery of microphone. "...but I just sit and wait. I'd rather concentrate on Johnny Angel."

Always good at keeping quiet, I made no sound as splendid suction enveloped, but my lips trembled and my fingers tightened into claws on chair's armrests. Nothing had ever as astonishingly aroused, and I wasn't sure if it was some combination of illicit circumstances or just screwy, sexy sweetheart himself that had me incredibly, intensely inflamed. He'd obviously done this before, and I couldn't help but wonder how recently, feeling a stab of pride at my broad-mindedness to discover I didn't much care.

Hadn't been watching since eyes had rolled and head tilted back, but cracked lids and peered down when he stopped and stood, bemused to discover sly devil had somehow managed to take his own pants off without my noticing a thing...which I sure noticed now, since he was bloody well waving it at me.

"Hold still, now, okay?" Keith whispered "Know what m'doing, but never done it with one as big as yours." Wickedly wrapping my slick cock in nimble fingers, he turned around to exhibit taut percussive muscles beneath thin fabric of shirt and tight arse below its hem, turning to quip over one shoulder "Might want to hang on, so I don't go crashing off into the gear."

Breath I hadn't realized I was holding gasped out as he lowered himself onto me. Reached out to grip his hips while rocking my own, and could tell from position of my hand that his was fondling himself, sighs segueing back into sappy song which compounded my lust while confounding my mind.

"Johnny Angel, how I love him. And I pray that someday he'll love me."

Knew I would soon, if I didn't already. Prayers being answered...any second now...

"And together we will see how lovely Heaven will be."

"Yes!" I managed to reduce triumphant shout into low growl as he tightened around my spasming shaft, taking every inch and every drop.

Keith's final note quavered into rising wail, hands I'd seen so quick upon the kit slowing as if glued by sticky eruption across his fingers, and remained locked together silently for a magic moment before he slowly withdrew to arise upon quaking knees, turning to face me smugly, looking like the cat who got the cream...which, I suppose, he was.

"I need a smoke." I intoned, although what I nearly said was 'I love you.'

"Me, too." Keith bounced onto my bed.

And this is where we are now...]

"John!" Keith pokes him in the bicep, causing towering ash to crumble onto crumpled sheets. "Put that out! Gonna burn us up, falling asleep smoking in bed." He huffs indignantly "You're s'pozed to be the responsible one."

"Wasn't sleeping." Ox reaches to crush butt into nearby tray before rolling to take Moonie in his arms. "Just thinking about your amazing audition."

"Guess I passed." Keith tickles John's mustache with tip of tongue "You let me in...the band...and haven't kicked me out yet."

"Well, you're on probation, now." John affects teasing tone, but the words are gravely meant, and he hopes Keith takes them to heart. "Get your shit together, all right?"

"I'll shape up, I promise. Gotta keep fiddling about for years to come, y'know. Nobody can do it like me."


End file.
